It had to be the coldest night of the year, and the icy wind didn't help
much. As it shook the basement windows of the under-ground saloon, it
almost made one wonder if there wasn't a sandstorm warning going on. Of
course, in a room full of drunks, no one really cared. Under the hotel, the
smell of cheap alcohol and cigar smoke circulated around the room, making
some gag as they entered. To say the least, it wasn't five star.
Grabbing up his seventh drink from the barkeep, a obviously drunken man stumbled back to his comrades, who were in the booth by the wall. Once slumping by an equally stoned male, he chugged most of the contense down. His friends laughed as beer trickled down his chin and began to stain his tattered vest. This, of course, only led him to strain the rest of the bottle down his throat. Letting out a content sigh, he leaned back onto the faded and damaged booth matting.
One of the more sober of the group scanned the room, not really finding the conversation all that amusing. It wasn't till his eye's hit the far corner of the bar chairs did he stop his gaze. There, sitting with a glass of tonic in her hand, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Now, it would be unfair for me to say this man was COMPLETELY sober, cause he wasn't even close. He just happened to be the least knocked up. So there he sat, drooling over the woman at the bar. Not hearing his friend's joke, he stood up, almost admittedly falling. Trying to steady himself, he leaned on the table, much to the dismay of his comrades whose drinks went everywhere. He quickly muttered an apology before scrambling to the bar stool by the woman of his eye.
"Hi," he said, trying to get under control. "Is this seat taken?" The woman jumped slightly, the glass almost falling from her hands. She turned around, her blue eyes relaxing, and smiled a sweet smile to the him.
"No," she said in a cheery voice you wouldn't expect in such dank, dark dungeon of a tavern. "You can sit here." The man nodded, pulling up a stool to sit on.
"You must have been here awhile," he said, almost sheepishly. "You waitin' for someone?"
The bright smile darkened for a second as the woman ran a hand trough her waist length brown hair. "You could...say that." She smiled again, sad and sweet, then pulled her purse over one shoulder and stood. Beginning to walk away, she was stopped by the man's tug of her arm. It didn't help he was shorter then her, but he still kept her from leaving.
"Where the hell are you going?" he asked, the drinks he had getting the better of him. The women stiffened, her arm tensing up.
"He's not coming," she said quietly before yanking her hand free. As she calmly walked up the stairs, the now very confused man's friends cheered, enjoying their buddy's rejection.
Slumping down in his stool, the man turned to the barkeep. "What the hell was her problem?" he asked, resting his head in his hands. The barkeep grinned, turning the glass he was cleaning in his palms.
"That woman is a strange one," he said, setting the glass down. "She comes here every night, waiting for the same man, but he never shows up." The grin turned into a sad smile as the man behind the counter poured some gin into the glass. "I asked around and found out she and her partner live here, along with a man and his twin brother. She's been here for awhile, doing construction work. She was the one who hit the water vein for the well, or so they say." Pushing the now full glass to they costumer, the barkeep picked up another cup to wipe. "It's a shame she's waiting for a man who will never come." The man nodded, picking up the glass. He peered into it, taking in his own reflection, then gulped down the contense.
"...total shame..."
Grabbing up his seventh drink from the barkeep, a obviously drunken man stumbled back to his comrades, who were in the booth by the wall. Once slumping by an equally stoned male, he chugged most of the contense down. His friends laughed as beer trickled down his chin and began to stain his tattered vest. This, of course, only led him to strain the rest of the bottle down his throat. Letting out a content sigh, he leaned back onto the faded and damaged booth matting.
One of the more sober of the group scanned the room, not really finding the conversation all that amusing. It wasn't till his eye's hit the far corner of the bar chairs did he stop his gaze. There, sitting with a glass of tonic in her hand, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Now, it would be unfair for me to say this man was COMPLETELY sober, cause he wasn't even close. He just happened to be the least knocked up. So there he sat, drooling over the woman at the bar. Not hearing his friend's joke, he stood up, almost admittedly falling. Trying to steady himself, he leaned on the table, much to the dismay of his comrades whose drinks went everywhere. He quickly muttered an apology before scrambling to the bar stool by the woman of his eye.
"Hi," he said, trying to get under control. "Is this seat taken?" The woman jumped slightly, the glass almost falling from her hands. She turned around, her blue eyes relaxing, and smiled a sweet smile to the him.
"No," she said in a cheery voice you wouldn't expect in such dank, dark dungeon of a tavern. "You can sit here." The man nodded, pulling up a stool to sit on.
"You must have been here awhile," he said, almost sheepishly. "You waitin' for someone?"
The bright smile darkened for a second as the woman ran a hand trough her waist length brown hair. "You could...say that." She smiled again, sad and sweet, then pulled her purse over one shoulder and stood. Beginning to walk away, she was stopped by the man's tug of her arm. It didn't help he was shorter then her, but he still kept her from leaving.
"Where the hell are you going?" he asked, the drinks he had getting the better of him. The women stiffened, her arm tensing up.
"He's not coming," she said quietly before yanking her hand free. As she calmly walked up the stairs, the now very confused man's friends cheered, enjoying their buddy's rejection.
Slumping down in his stool, the man turned to the barkeep. "What the hell was her problem?" he asked, resting his head in his hands. The barkeep grinned, turning the glass he was cleaning in his palms.
"That woman is a strange one," he said, setting the glass down. "She comes here every night, waiting for the same man, but he never shows up." The grin turned into a sad smile as the man behind the counter poured some gin into the glass. "I asked around and found out she and her partner live here, along with a man and his twin brother. She's been here for awhile, doing construction work. She was the one who hit the water vein for the well, or so they say." Pushing the now full glass to they costumer, the barkeep picked up another cup to wipe. "It's a shame she's waiting for a man who will never come." The man nodded, picking up the glass. He peered into it, taking in his own reflection, then gulped down the contense.
"...total shame..."